


Book Thieves

by Mythalenaste



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Clan Sabrae, Dalish, Dalish Elves, F/M, Maybe I just want my elven trashchildren to be happy for a second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:18:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3805024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythalenaste/pseuds/Mythalenaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot. Tamlen teaching Mahariel to read...and how to person, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Book Thieves

_"What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies."_   
**— Aristotle**

* * *

 

Tamlen’s fingers spread over the delicate vellum, breathing in the scent of campfire and cedar that drifted to him on a soft breeze. He sat crosslegged in a clearing, resting one hand absently on the curve of Mahariel’s shoulder where she lay curled around him, having fallen asleep staring at the book he now held. Teaching her to read might have been like teaching a halla to dance, but she was determined to learn. She lay sprawled across the verdant moss, long fingered hands ridged with small knife scars clutching at the earth reflexively; her chest rising and falling steadily against the small of his back with each soft breath.

“She sleeps like a log,” Paivel’s gruff grumble startled the young elf from his contemplation of his friends quiescent form, glancing up guilty into the hahren’s barely concealed smirk. “But only around you…or after straining her tiny mind.”

“Hahren Paivel, we were just-”

“Nicking books from Merril when she wasn’t paying attention? That girl has enough problems without you two plaguing her with your mischief.” The elder lectured, sitting across from Tamlen and resting his thin wrists on his knees, frowning.

“I needed them, Hahren. I have every intention of returning them, of course.”

“You invoked vir sulevah’nen and your right was recognised by the Keeper?” Paivel murmured shrewdly, picking up a twig and twirling it between his fingers. Beside Tamlen, Mahariel murmured something in her sleep. More to calm himself than anything else, Tamlen stroked her shoulder before letting out a heavy sigh and gently shutting the book and holding it out the the elder. Paivel snorted and waved it away, rolling his eyes. “Keep it for as long as you need, I’m only giving you a hard time so you’ll learn something.”

“Oh.”

“Also so that even if this one does not-” Paivel gestured to Mahariel offhandedly, rolling his eyes. “-You, at least, will be able to invoke the proper traditions, rather than an inscription scrawled on a piece of birch bark saying ‘I neddis soree’. Teach her to spell and do the world a favour. Also, stop covering for her.”

The grumpy storyteller shuffled off with one last dubious glower in Mahariel’s direction. Tamlen let out a long sigh and set Merril’s book aside, wishing for once that his dearest friends nature was not so contrary to the rest of the clan. Beneath his hand, he could tell that she had awoken and was now merely feigning sleep. He dropped his hand to where her’s curled in the moss, wrapping his fingers around her’s and giving them a soft squeeze. It was an unspoken bit of communication and assurance…also a gentle nudge to urge her into waking.

“I do not sleep like a log.” Her sulfurous murmur startled a bark of laughter from him and he clapped her on the shoulder.

“How long have you been awake, lethallan?”

“That entire exchange. May Paivel have a halla spit in his eyes.” She cursed vehemently, curling tighter around Tamlen and hiding her face against his knee.

“He was just joking, I think. You are the most elegant and feminine of all the sleeping logs in the forest, da’mi.” Tamlen smoothed her hair back from her forehead and yanked his hand away just in time to avoid the playful nip meant for the flesh of his palm, her teeth grazing his skin. “Hey! That wasn’t very nice…”

“I am not nice. Why did you not tell Paivel it was me who stole the book?”

“Well, first of all ‘stole’ is an inflammatory way of putting it and secondly Marethari is more likely to let me get away with it than you. Ineria’s mother called you a ‘repeat offender’ the other day, you know.” He made no effort to hide his amusement as Mahariel rose to sit beside him, the sudden absence of her comforting warmth as she slid her legs out from behind him to fold them beneath her making him shiver.

“Ineria’s mother is simply embarrassed that she raised a weak da’len who cannot take a punch.” Mahariel snorted derisively, her persistent frown wrinkling her vallas’lin traced brow.

“You punched Ineria? Why?” Beside him, his falon’elgar shifted slightly, something like discomfort softening her customary scowl before ‘grumpy discontent’ reasserted itself as her ruling emotion.

“She called you a Flat-ear because she was jealous.” Mahariel said bluntly, leaning over to take the book from him. Odd. The jabs at his heritage were usually rare. He’d done so well, becoming one of the clan’s best hunters. Most of Clan Sabrae had chalked that up to him having clearly had Dalish blood somewhere back in his family line. Besides, he had grown up beside Ineria…and just the other day, he could have sworn she’d been flirting with him during their watch shift.

“Jealous of what, Lethallan?”

“I know not. I do not concern myself with the motivations of fools.” The words were quick and the tone was severe but Tamlen only had eyes for the blush that was creeping up the back of Mahariel’s delicate neck as she focused on the book clutched in her hands. Wordlessly, he slid close to her to read over her shoulder, resting his weight back on his hands and letting the inside of his arm just barely brush her back. She shifted nearer to him, her body fitting easily against his; sliding the book so it rested evenly between them. Like most things with Mahariel, it didn’t need to be said. 


End file.
